My Aunt Janell reminded me how my grandmother, born in Mexico and raised in El Paso, had survived many a frozen winter in Star Valley, Wyoming. Survival is in the genes.
My mother-in-law even sent me this book, written by a Canadian, who clearly understands my pain. Just look at the illustration on the cover.
Getting Thomas into his snowsuit for recess is no easy task. Even the principal must take on the challenge.
Spoiler alert!
Here is the final page:
I can relate.
My sister-in-law K reminded me of the time I wrote about the mom from Minnesota who had mastered the art of bundled children because in their hometown it wasn't for fashion, it was for survival. (I never expect you to read my old news--heck, I'm surprised anyone bothers to read my current news--but the post to which K was referring does give you a sense of why I am in such culture shock.)
As I thought about that mom from Minnesota, I realized that, after three years of living here, I am sure to become her! My children will be perfectly trained. I can see it now:
Three years from now, after we've moved back to Dayton, one chilly afternoon I will take my children to the park, where I will astound the other moms with my children's zipped winter coats, cozy scarves, matching gloves, and coordinated hats.
Or, it will feel so warm to us that we'll all run around sporting short-sleeves and flip-flops in 35 degree weather.
(Why do I have a feeling the second scenario is much more likely?)
Anyway, thanks again for your well-wishing and warm thoughts. Heaven knows we need it!
